


Sangre

by i_am_op



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-16 08:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11825181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_op/pseuds/i_am_op
Summary: "You mosquito," Lance shouted, his face flushing red from anger. His hand shot up and clasped his hand over the bite marks.Keith did a double take. "M-Mosquito? I'm a vampire, you ignor--""Blah, blah, blah. Shut up, you blood-sucking cockroach!""Oh, so I'm a cockroach now?"(Keith is a vampire AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> fic dedicated to the fucking mosquito that bit me like 5 times
> 
> literally wrote this in like a few minutes bc i was pissed off at the itch

Lance goes through life with repetitive motions and tiresome activities.

Wake up in the morning, go straight back to sleep, then wake up once more to find himself late for class. He'd rush through mundane activities such as brushing his teeth and getting dressed and be out of his dorm in a split second, running through campus to reach his classes in time.

He'd be late for class, sit through boring lectures in his morning classes and afterwards, absentmindedly buy lunch and study through his lunch break.

Then it was back to afternoon classes and he'd return late at night, brain completely fried, eat dinner and study until he was to tired to tell left from right. 

College was a bore. 

He missed trouble-free high school. It had been so amazingly simple compared to college. He hung out with his friends more than he actually studied. Now, he barely saw anyone through the copious amount of studying.

Oh, the life of a college student.

When he first entered the college, he expected life of partying and socializing. Not quite nights at his dorm, studying well into midnight, ignoring loud neighbors across the hall (everyday becoming close to filing a complaint). 

Life was boring and Lance was restless and agitated. Only about a month to go before the long-awaited winter break.

The only thing eventful in his life was getting a discount on his books and counting down the days on his calendar. 

***

Late night studying was hardly a foreign concept to Lance. At this point, it just slithered into his routine and became a habit, 

Neither was the loud music and yelling coming from his neighbor.

Attempting to study through the noise, Lance stubbornly scribbled some equations down in his notebook and tried to focus. He had an upcoming test and he needed to bring home a fuck ton of A's. He was persistent and unrelenting in his studies for a whole thirty minutes before finally snapping after a particularly loud crash. He unwillingly let out a groan.

He couldn't study like this. 

He quickly grabbed his coat from his coat hanger and wore it over his pajamas. It was the middle of the night, no one cared about his ghostbuster pajamas. He slipped into his black, shabby sneakers.

He needed some coffee to refuel him. 

He snatched his keys and wallet, jamming it hurriedly into his jacket pocket. Wordlessly, he left the dorm room, trying to ignore the deafening noises as he walked down the stairs to the exit.

It was always eerily creepy during the night in the lounge room. The lights were completely off, sans the few lamps that lit the hallways, as it was well past midnight. It left a haunted tone to the place. Ghost weren't real, but Lance wasn't taking any chances and he sped-walked out of the lounge room as fast as he could.

Lance walked out the exit and stepped out into the cool October breeze. He slightly shivered and walked towards the convenience store that was nearby and open for twenty-four hours. It was a sort of sanctuary for sleep-deprived college students trying to cram late night studies into their schedule. 

He escaped the cold and was engulfed with the warmth of the store. After a few minutes of walking around, he picked a bag of chips and a can of coffee.

He ringed it up to a tired-looking cashier who seemed to yawn ever two seconds.

Two-seventy-five. 

He paid with a five dollar bill, collected his change and walked out with a black plastic bag. 

This was the height of college life. 

Sighing, he dug through the bag as he walked and took out the can of coffee and cracked it open. He took a long sip. Warmth flooded his taste buds and he let out a content sigh, which left a misty cloud form into the cold night air. He held the coffee again his face, which warmed his cheeks.

Now that winter was slowly creeping up on them, the air was getting colder and colder. Nightly visits to the convenience store was going to become fewer.

He walked back to the dorm room, avoiding anything troublesome, studied for a few more hours before retreating to his bed and getting the much needed sleep.

He wished.

No, instead, he got a limp figure in the middle of the street. He could've ignored it, but the dude was groaning in pain and looked like he was suffering. 

Lance quickly rushed over to the man, setting the can of coffee and his plastic bag besides him and kneeled next to the figure on the street.

He lightly shook him. "Hey, wake up. You're in the middle of the road."

No answer. Just a limp figure.

He flipped the man over. Seemed like a college boy himself, with a young face, paired with black hair (which Lance just noticed resembled a mullet). He was a bit surprised at the pallor of his skin. Maybe he had a fever.

Lance place one hand to the half-conscious figure's forehead and one hand to his own. He was surprised to find the temperature of the guy not to be burning hot, but ice cold. Like really fucking cold. Lance chalked it up as him being outside on the road for too long with only a thing vest and short sleeves.

Okay, so maybe not a fever. 

"Hey, hey. Wake up. Don't sleep on the road." He shook him a bit harder this time, but he still didn't get a response from the man. With one more shake, Lance sighed. 

Maybe he had a stomachache or something. He'll just call for an ambulance and be on his way. He fished for his phone in his pockets and when met with nothing, but emptiness, he froze momentarily in confusion as his mind suddenly filled the gap.

 _He didn't bring his phone with him_. He had brought only his wallet and keys.

How to go about this situation.

He had the body strength equivalent to a eight grader. How was he going to carry someone around. He sure as hell couldn't bring gim to the hospital. It was an hour long drive and he was _walking_. 

Well, he couldn't just leave him here. That was an asshole-ish move to make. Besides, he was on the road, vulnerable to being run over a car. He was his responsibility the moment Lance tried to help.

He couldn't call the police because he was phoneless at the moment and no one was awake and walking about with a phone at this late time. 

After a few minutes of musing, he decided to bring him home and phone nine-one-one from there. He's read enough books to know that's what happens next. 

Some magic epic adventure after revealing who Lance really was. Some sort of dragon-slayer hero. Lance snorted and pushed the daydream aside. 

He'll bring the boy home and out of danger first and then call an ambulance. They'll retrieve him and Lance will forget about this encounter. That was a given. 

As he was about to reach for the limp figure, his eyes caught the plastic bag. He had bought all that and hadn't even finished it. He was a broke college student. He had to take what he could get. 

So he downed the coffee in one go and glanced at the bag. 

He didn't waste a dollar for nothing, dammit. So, with plastic bag hanging on his arm and coffee churning in his stomach, his hands went underneath the guy. He attempt to life the guy and he--

The plan to bring him back to his dorm was easier said than done.

Holy shit, he was _heavy_. 

Or maybe Lance just had sticks for arms, but this isn't a self-deprication day, so he forces himself to lift the man up and bring him to his dorm. Or more like drag him. 

He had initially attempted to hold him bridal style. Now, he was just dragging the guy on his feet, the tip of his shoes crushing against the cement. 

After a few grunts and a strean of curses underneath his breath, he managed to bring the unconscious male into the dorm and in front of the stairs.

That was when he found his trouble. 

If he could barely move this man on a flat surface, how was he going to bring him up the stairs. His arms were still sore from dragging him. 

After some moment decision, Lance decides to pull him by the arms. Up the stairs, bouncing everytime he hit a new step. That was going to bruise.

Lance felt a bit sorry. The guy looked worse since Lance had picked him up. And he was only going to look worse with the fresh new bruises that would undoubtedly form. 

But that was better than getting run over by a car on the road, so Lance considered it a win for the unconcious male. 

He managed to drag him to his room, open the door, and after a few more bouts of struggling, he placed him on the bed.

Amazingly, he hadn't stirred one bit from his deep slumber. Not even during the staircase. 

Lance stretched his arms. His muscles cramped and he was so tired and fatigued. He falls to the floor with an ungraceful _thump_. Jesus, he's never saving people on the road ever again. 

Time to call for an ambulance.

He attempted to get up, but found his muscles giving up on him. 

Well, after a five minute nap on the floor he'll call the police, because he deserved it for his efforts. 


	2. Chapter 2

Lance awakes to the cold floor and his alarm ringing loudly. 

He scrunches up his face and forces himself up, lifting himself up with his stick for arms. As a result, he wobbles and almost falls on his face. 

' _Note to self. Hit the gym as soon as possible_ ,' He thinks to himself, groggy from sleep.

For a brief moment, as he wakes up on the floor, he tries to make sense of things. Why was he sleeping on the floor?

Had he passed out from late night studying? If so, this wasn't his first time knocking out. Damn, he felt so shitty from his sleep, as if he hadn't slept at all and the tiredness was killing him. Maybe he should limit his studying schedule. 

With that in mind, he walked over to his desk, albeit a bit shaky from sleep, and stopped the blaring alarm on his phone. He checked the time. 

11:35AM

His eyes popped out of their sockets. 

He was _late_  for his morning classes. By one hour and forty minutes. Scratch that, he missed two morning classes and was about ten minutes late to his last morning class. Without thinking about it, he grabbed all his studying materials from his desk, and dumped them into his bag, strapped it on him, and bolted out the door in just a few minutes.

Forget that he didn't do his usual morning routine of washing his face, brushing his teeth, taking a shower, having a healthy breakfast and all that usual shit. He was so damn late. Well, later than his usual late, anyway.

He had rushed with locking the door that he kept missing the keyhole, cursing to himself throughout the whole ordeal about the lost time. When he  _finally_  manage to fit it in and lock the door, he made a run for it at the staircase.

As he ran down the stairs, he felt as if he was forgetting something. 

Pen? Notebook? Textbook? Phone?

Well, it didn't matter. All that mattered was he was late and he needed to hustle. He already missed  _two_  morning classes, he wasn't going to miss the last one, dammit. He forced himself to run throughout the campus on an empty stomach and someone functioning on little sleep. 

It took him five minutes to reach the school building and he's feeling oddly proud of himself. All it took was a, probably, busted lung and a leg that was failing on him. He almost had a spasm when he realized that the professor's room was at the fifth floor, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself up the stairs. He had to hold the railing and resist the urge to groan and just faint, right there and then. 

Really, for someone who's twentieth birthday was just a few weeks ago, he was acting like he was sixty and had a busted back.

Well, he sure felt like he did, because by the time he reached the classroom, it was well into twenty minutes into the lecture. 

When he entered, all eyes were on him and his 'fashionably' late entrance. 

The professor looked like he wanted to scold him, but at the look of Lance's pathetic wheezing state, coupled along with his shaking limbs, the professor only gave him a resigned look, a sigh, and ordered him to sit down. 

It definitely wasn't a good day.

***

It was not until around five minutes until the end of class that he remembered what he had been worked up about during his run down the stairs.

He had forgotten something. 

His wallet. 

He needed his wallet to buy himself some lunch.

It was a bit of a hassle to return to his dormitory for lunch, but seeing as he skipped out on breakfast, he was willing to go the extra mile. Plus, the shop that Lance usually went to had a sale on sugar cookies.

It's not like he had any lunch dates, either way.  _Oh,_  lunch dates. Socializing and having fun with friends. How he missed that in high school. The only thing he looked forward to for lunch was half-price bacon sandwiches. Lunch rush discounts were truly a gift. 

So, he patiently waited until the last five minutes of class ended and he headed out the door quickly, and had his sights set on his wallet.

He lightly jogged throughout campus, passing through groups of people who were hanging out with their friends. Lance stared wistfully at them. He was a social butterfly at heart, after all. But, studying did come first.

He sighed and jogged at a bit of a faster pace.

He reached the dormitories at around fifteen minutes and after briefly greeting the TA, he went up the stairs and to his room. He fished around his bag for keys, unlocked the door, and opened it with his body weight.

Alright, so the plan was, search around for his wallet, grab at it, and make a run for the shop. The lunch specials were popular and there definitely wouldn't be any room for him to get a seat if he wasn't fast enough to get ahead of the lunch special.

So, he searched his desk. Surprisingly, it wasn't there. Where was the last time he had his wallet.

He thought back to last night. He had bought a few midnight snacks with it. Oh yeah, he also brought along a boy--

Oh, dear lord, he completely forgot about the boy he brought.  

This wasn't something simple as forgetting a wallet. He forgot that he a real-life human into his dorm. 

This was past all levels of clumsiness. He grasped at his hair and pulled. 

How? How did he forget something so big?

Well, no use fretting over it. First things first, he had to check on the boy. He quickly ran to his room and slammed out the door. On his bed, was the very same boy, but this time, he was awake. He was in a dazed state as he was sitting upright, looking like hell.

Lance observed at the boy, who was around his age, sit on the bed, looking tired from sleep. His hair was black and disheveled. Bed hair, Lance faintly notes in his hysteria. He had black eyes with massive bags underneath him, and his face seemed to be morphed in to a permanent scowl.

Not to mention he was pale. Like, he came out of a Twilight-movie-pale.

Not that Lance watched Twilight or anything... Not of his own accord, anyways. His younger sisters dragged him along to the movie since they needed someone to buy them their tickets.

There was was uneasy silence and the boy looked up at Lance. "Who're you?"

Lance cleared his throat. "I'm Lance. I'm the guy who picked you up from the streets."

That came out kind of wrong, huh. 

"Streets?"

"Ya'know. You were passed out on the streets last night and I brought you here." Lance struggled to explain without it sounding awkward and utterly confusing.

The boy was silent for awhile. "And you didn't think to call the hospital?"

Lance flushed and gave him a light scowl. Embarrassment flooded him as he cleared his throat. "I did, I just... kind of--" Lance paused. He fell asleep. How could he tell him that.

The other boy sighed and mumbled underneath his breath. "Well, it's better this way, I suppose."

Despit ethe other boy mumbling, Lance easily caught the mumble. "Better?"

"Your phone died or something?" The boy said smoothly changing the subject.

"Actually, um..." Lance wanted to agree. Yes, his phone died, but he was really all that into lying. So, he decided to man up and fess up to his mistakes. "I fell asleep."

The other boy looks momentarily stunned at his answer, before his face split into a snicker. "What's up with that?"

"It was well into midnight," Lance shouted, defensively. 

"Right, right." The boy sounded doubtful.

Lance ignored the boy's tone. "So, what's your name."

"Keith. Keith Kogane."

Lance raised his brows and in a teasing tone said, "Oh? Going for the James Bond approach?"

"Who's James Bond?"

Lance did a double-take. "Uh, only the best spy to exist? How do you  _not_  know James Bond?"

"Well, he's not a very good spy if everyone knows who he is. Isn't the purpose of a spy to be discreet?" 

"He isn't real, you idiot."

"Like your brain, you jerk. Then what is he? A book character?"

"A movie character, you shit-for-brains."

"Least I have one, you asshat."

Lance glared lightly at Keith as he glared back. "Fine. You. Me. James Bond movie marathon. You'll realize how fucking awesome he is."

Lazily, Keith waved his hands to dismiss his words. "Yeah, yeah. Alright. So, how much do you want?"

"Excuse me? If you're asking about the movie tickets, I'll have you know, I have the complete set on blu-ray."

"No, I meant that I'm in your debt for saving me. This is me returning the deed."

As broke as Lance was as a college student, if felt wrong to take money from someone. He felt sort of shameless taking money from someome who he found knocked out on the streets. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Nah, I'm cool dude. Take your money, I don't need it."

"I always repay my debts," Keith says in a matter of fact way.

Shrugging, Lance just gave him a look. "Well, got to live with this debt then. Really, dude, it doesn't matter."

Keith looked a bit distraught about his words and had a bemused expression on his face, as if thinking intensely about something. The 'don't hurt yourself thinking too hard' remark gets caught in Lance's throat as Keith looked up at him.

"Give me your phone," Keith said, hands stretched out in front of him, looking at him expectantly. 

Lance gave him a questioning look, but otherwise, obliged. He reached for his pockets and took out his phone. He let it rest on Keith's palm and watched as Keith started tapping on the screen for a few times. He cursed a few times, mumbling something underneath his breath about "technology", before looking up at Lance and hanging him his phone back.

Curiously, Lance glanced at the screen. 

New Contact: Keith Kogane. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

"Alright, here's my phone number. If you ever need something call me. Then my debt would be cleared."

"O-Okay?" Lance said, completed confused about this strange situation. He was baffled about the whole exchange that he happened so quickly.

Keith looked satisfied and rose up from his seat on the bed. "Then, I hope you reply soon. I don't like being in debt."

And hewas out the door.

Lance was left with a confused expression on his face and a phone number from a random stranger.

* * *

Lance - 0:32AM

Hey. Do you wonder if ducks can duck? If they can, do they tell each other to duck in their duck language whenever there's a tree branch or something

 

Keith - 2:32AM

And how does this relate to my debt?

 

Lance - 2:33AM

I thought you wanted me to reply as soon as possible? Your words, not mine.

 

Keith - 2:34AM

Ugh, go to sleep. It's late

 

Lance - 2:35AM

And yet, you're awake. Tsk, tsk.

 

Keith - 2:35AM

Go to sleep

 

Lance - 2:35AM

Fine. Good night

 

Keith - 2:36AM

Good night

 

Keith - 2:34AM

And ducks don't even know they're ducks. 

 

Lance - 2:35AM

oH, WHO'S NOT SLEEPING NOW?? HMMM???

 

Keith - 2:36AM

Shut up. 

* * *

 "So? How was it?" Lance excitedly says, as his eyes, which were practically glued to the end credits, shifted their gaze onto Keith.

Keith took a bite of the few remaining popcorn they had.

"James Bonds can eat my shit, for all I care," Keith grumbled. "Can't believe I wasted hours on this crap."

Lance threw a pillow straight at Keith's face. 

Last second, Keith smoothly leans to the left and the pillow whizzes past his ear. 

"You take that back."

"Make me," Keith eyes narrow.

Without any warning, Lance jumps from his spot on the couch and tackles Keith, the popcorn flying everywhere from Keith's lap in the midst of the battle.

* * *

"Oh? You though you can beat me, you fishfuck?"

"Eat shit, McClain."

Lance laughed and sneered at Keith. "This is your end." He placed down a card. "Plus four card. And the color I choose is--"

"Not so fast, you shitty trash," Keith interrupts as he places another card down. "Plus four-- or should I say,  _eight_."

"No way. I've lost--  _is what you thought I'd say_. Fuck you, plus four card again. It's plus twelve now, you dingus," Lance shouted as he placed the card down. 

Keith grinned. "You know how many draw four card they're is in a uno deck? Four."

Keith placed a card down.

"Uno. Draw four. No-- draw sixteen. Color is green."

"No," Lance screams. He throws his cards up into the air and watches as they flutter downwards, spinning mid-air. 

"You're a sore loser," Keith grumbles as he makes a face at Lance. "That would've been my hundred-and-eighth win."

"Let's play Candy Land," Lance mumbles.

Keith rolls his eyes and snorts. "I said it once before and I'll say it again. Sore loser."

" _Shut up_ \-- I challenge you to a match." And then without warning, Lance jumps up from his seat tackles him.

There's some shuffle and difficulty, but Keith is the stronger of the two. 

With ease, Keith easily overpowers him and Lance is on his back with Keith sitting on top of him as victior, hands pinning Lance's wrist against the floor.

" _Damn_ , Keith. You're real strong. Do you work out?" Lance says with wide eyes.

"Hm, do I?" Keith says with a teasing grin.

"What's your secret?" 

"I'll tell you if you tell

"I don't work out. I'm just naturally strong. Part of the genes."

"Wha-- No  _fucking_  fair." Lance shouts. He watches as Keith releases him from his hold, getting up and walking to the kitchen.

"Keith, come ba--!  _Keith_ \--! You dirty cheater. You're bullshitting, aren't yo--"

"What's that, Mister I-Lost-At-Uno-A-Hundred-And-Eight-Times?" Keith taunted, his voice a bit muffled from the distance.

Lance flushes. "A hundred and seven actually."

"That counts as my win."

Lance, for his part, during their usual text message session, he petulantly doesn't reply to Keith.

He doesn't reply for a solid two minutes before he cracks and responds back with paragraphs of text.

* * *

Lance oddly found his chats with Keith to be entertaining. In his socially isolated life, Keith was the only person he did talk to, aside from his family. 

Slowly, but surely, Keith was crawling his way up his friends list. Well, not that he had a very big friends list. They were all friends from high school that probably had forgotten about him as soon as they went their separate way.

He thought he was progressing along well with his friends. They even arrange meet ups at times and hung out like friends did.

The feeling of some sort of friendship was comforting to Lance and he found himself enjoying it.

Gone were the days Lance spent studying alone and now, he was arranging meet ups with Keith.

As promised, they went through all the Bond films and Keith hated it, which he got a pillow in his face for his criticisms. They went on more movie marathons, meet up with each other frequently and Lance enjoyed his time with Keith.

Keith was a breath of fresh air. 

They had nothing in common, they clashed against each other, dought a lot, but somehow, they defeated the odds and managed to just fit in with each other. Almost like a puzzle piece.

They're text messages stretched for miles and miles and one text message session usually lasted hours.

It was tranquil in a sense and it easily fit into Lance's schedule.

Having Keith in his life was like having an old friend. He fell so easily into the patterns of friendship like he had in high school.

Lance was delighted by Keith's presence. He liked the playful banter, the feeling of someone by his side, talking with someone. It was nice, in a sense. He could definitely get used to this.

Lance was friends with a cool guy named Keith and it was pretty good. Even if he beat him a hundred and eight times at Uno.

* * *

Keith was friends with a human named Lance and it was pretty bad. 

Okay, the actual friendship was very good and Keith found himself enjoying the meetings on more than one occasion. He was sure of their friendship and he was actually happy about it.

And that was exactly the problem. 

It was bad enough that he's befriending a human, but he's also forcing himself to eat normal human food. 

It cramps up his stomach real bad and he might as well become an actor for his casual face while taking a bite out of that pizza slice. 

He had to act like a human, which more definitely more annoying to act out than in theory. 

He's feeling a bit fatigue since ever since he met Lance, he's been eating his way through human food, not blood. 

He's too busy hanging out with Lance in the day and it messes up his sleep schedule. So when he goes out to hunt at night, he sleeps. He's supposed to be nocturnal, dammit. 

And when he does stay awake during night, it's so he could talk to Lance on the phone or stay awake for movie marathons.

He could visibly see himself being drainned of energy. He tries to supplement humans with whatever animal he could find, but they're just temporary food, not enough to fully sate his hunger. 

He'll last a few more weeks, he decided. So he hung out with Lance, sucked animals dry, and pretended to be discreet. 

It was would be all fine and dandy if Pidge wasn't hot on his trail.

Pidge's noticing him go out more frequently underneath the pretense of hunting for food and is clearly not buying whatever excuses he made. She notices him being weaker, not in a better state after his supposed hunts. It's not long before Pidge'll confront him about it, because that's just the type of person Pidge is. 

Keith sighs as he messes up his hair. He bit his nails, irritiation sprouting in him. His life's a metaphor for "complete utter trainwreck".

Midway during his musings, he hears a ding from his phone, indicating that he got another text message.

He quickly grabs at his phone and eyes flickering as he reads the message.

 -

Lance - 7:40PM

Ugh, don't even talk to me, you disgusting Team Ravenclaw. Gryffindors are where the true bitches are at

-

Keith wears a large smile at the phone, a fond expression on his face, one that Pidge would call stupid. He couldn't help himself.

Maybe this friendship wasn't "pretty bad" as he had said it to be.

He smiled to himself as he quickly wrote a text back and getting a reply back in turn. He sent one back and got another text back, as if in a tennis match. 

He fell asleep with phone in hand.


End file.
